It’s not like when we were kids. No sir. We didn’t have fancy morphable toys that were cars or jet planes, then flying superheroes, depending on which direction we pulled their arms (or wheels, wings, or whatever). We had building blocks. We had tinker toys. We had tin cans from the pantry we could stack and unstack. It’s not like the old days.
We ponder this, while driving down the highway in our motorhome. Our motorhome perfectly proportioned for freeway driving; the maximum size allowable to fit the lanes. When we park, push a button, things change. Slides go out, rooms are suddenly square. The dish unfolds, extends and finds the satellite. Awnings, steps, heat, air conditioning, vents, curtains? Buttons. Now we have the perfectly configured house.
No sir. It’s not like when we were kids.
Benson, to
